Stalking the Beast
by Elaienar
Summary: When Tsukasa returns from the hospital, the kumin flee.  But why?  [Spoilers.]


**Stalking the Beast**

The kumin approached the seisei's room cautiously, much in the manner of fanfictional characters attempting to sneak past their fans, or that of khaki-clad hunters stalking some fearsome beast in the wild. Their widened eyes, furtive movements, and hushed voices indicated fear.

It was justifiable fear. Wasn't Tsukasa the most unpredictable person any of them had ever met? Hadn't she been raised by a policeman? Wasn't she violent and diplomatic by turns? Hadn't she turned out to be a woman - the legendary Durga's daughter, no less - and given them all the shock of their lives? And they still remembered the ... _incident_ ... after she had been shot. They were afraid.

They were afraid, and the sounds coming from behind Tsukasa's closed door were not helping at all to calm the waves of fright crashing over them, or lift the ominous weights on their chests. As one man they stopped - stood - waited, petrified with apprehension as they strained to discover words in the muffled sounds that came from behind that cursed, blank-faced door. Voices. The seisei's, mostly, with occasional bland interjections from Sandaime's. It was near impossible to distinguish words, but the tone of Tsukasa's voice was unmistakable. They listened, and trembled.

Their silence was broken by a horrified whisper from one of the young men: "It's happened again - Keiji was telling the truth!"

"What are we going to do?" quavered a taller man, cracking his knuckles.

"'What is _she_ going to do,' you mean," growled an older, heftier man. "If it's as bad as the last time..." His voice trailed off apprehensively.

They all shuddered.

"I was never so frightened in my life," gulped the one who had spoken first.

"How do you know it's happened, though?" asked one who had not spoken before. "Maybe it's just a rumor."

Another man spoke from behind him. "You haven't seen Keiji. _He_ knows. She _spoke_ to him."

Others nodded, and hurried whispers came from the edges of the group.

"It's no rumor, that's sure. Keiji said - "

"He came back to us, white as a ghost ..."

" - she grabbed him and - "

"... shaking like a leaf!"

" - he said she was talking ... she said - "

"What _did_ she say?"

The man who had been telling what Keiji had said looked over his shoulder nervously and lowered his voice as the other kumin drew together in a protective circle. Then he told them what Tsukasa had said.

In the horrified silence that followed, the old kumin protested loudly. "God in heaven! She _didn't_!"

Too loudly. From behind the door Tsukasa's voice rose petulantly, muffled but intelligible: "What's that? Ryuuji, is someone out there?"

Several kumin swore softly. "Quick - scram!" hissed another.

They scrammed.

When Ryuuji opened the door, the corridor was empty. He had known it would be: ever since Tsukasa had got hold of one of the kumin, the day she had got back from the hospital, they had been running like scared rabbits at the mere sound of her voice. He wasn't sure if he should find it funny or worrisome, but Tsukasa was (naturally) oblivious and he wasn't sure how to explain to her that she was frightening the kumin. She was frightening _him_, come to think of it, and he could only hope that her initial exuberance would die a quick and natural death before he, too, began to dive into closets when he heard her approaching.

He shut the door and turned back to face her. "No one is there, Tsukasa."

From where she was draped over the baby bassinet, Tsukasa shot him a bemused look. "Funny," she said. "I thought I heard someone talking." She turned back to the bassinet and grinned fondly down at the wide-eyed baby that occupied it. "Doesn't he look just like you?"

"His hair is the wrong color," objected Ryuuji, for the seventy-ninth time.

"Pfft! Technicalities!" laughed Tsukasa. "He's _bee-yoo-tee-ful_, and he looks _exactly_ like you. He'll grow up handsome. Won't oo, biddy baby? Yes, oo will! Grow up jus' like Daddy! Oo's Mommy's iddle boy, den? Oo are, oo are, oo biddy darlin'!"

_Finis_

* * *

Nakamura Yoshiki is the name of the author of TCP, and none of the characters in this fic belong to me. However, the concept of having Tsukasa scare the living daylights out of the kumin by talking baby-talk in front of them _does_. I'm not opposed to sharing, though, and if someone can write it better than me (which I'm sure they can) they're more than welcome to.


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